Miss Prim arrived at the appointed time in the early afternoon carrying a tray of freshly baked cakes. After almost three months in the village, she knew that tea, coffee, or hot chocolate, fine pastries, and a good liqueur were essential to any social gathering there. ‘It surprised me too at first, but I’ve…
January 3, 2018 It is the tenth day of Christmas, and the third of a brand new year. I’m sitting at my little desk in the waning light of a January day. Even from this distance, I can hear the sounds of hammerings and saws coming from the house, the occasional pounding, the muffled noise…
I wrote this piece two years ago, the first Christmas after my father died. Placing it here once more in the hope that it might be a source of comfort and kinship for those facing a difficult holiday this year… I am so sick of death. It’s been a year of bereavement. Even before Daddy…
Dear Ones, Just popping in on this early December morning to say that I haven’t forgotten about the newsletter! I’ve been working away on the first installment (which includes a brief history of our house) in the few spare moments this phase of the restoration affords–and taking pictures of absolutely everything! But I will say,…
There are two speeds: Advent-speed and Christmas-speed. I don’t know about you, but around mid-December the former fades. Thanks for the memories—fireside readings with the family, meditating about all that is to come, eight hours of sleep, breathing… Nowadays, I am jacked up on Christmas. Which is kind of fun but also not so pretty….
I’m a namer. Shortly after we moved into this RV, my husband asked me what we were going to call it, knowing full well I’d have something in mind. I did–though it had taken a few days to rise to the surface. “Camp Marah,” I told him. It seemed so appropriate for a temporary home…
At times, the simplicity imposed upon us by both the house fire and our temporary living quarters feels like a gift brimming with meaning and grace. Stripped of all pretense and encumbrance, I really could not be better positioned to embrace the more penitential side of Advent, and this is a very good thing. But…
It is no-screen Sunday, and I am tired. Nevertheless, I cannot let the evening pass without wishing the Interwebs a most happy and blessed beginning to Advent. The first, brave purple taper shines! All in all, a good day at the Boggs household. Not perfect, mind you. Twas packed with church and chores and tree-twirling…
“I need the church to remind me of reality: time is not a commodity that I control, manage, or consume. The practice of liturgical time teaches me, day by day, that time is not mine. It does not revolve around me. Time revolves around God—what he has done, what he is doing, and what he…
It’s a most unusual Thanksgiving. Instead of the typical flurry of preparation, I spent the morning scouring the internet for antique slag glass lamps (I’m obsessed) and historic wallpaper patterns. Afterwards, a leisurely ramble through the pasture with the animals, and lunch in the yard—it’s mild enough here in the South to eat outdoors, at…
We have cool friends. Seriously. Friday night, two of them hosted a Michaelmas party. The spouse and I went—with bells on. The gathering was billed as “an evening of readings and song,” and so it was. Following a crazy-talented singer-songwriter, a number of English madrigals performed acapella, a historian, an autumnal sonnet by Lanier, and…
I’ve never faced a holiday season with such uncertainty. Every year previous I’ve had a relatively comfortable idea of how things would go: when I’d start my baking; what night we’d decorate the tree; where we’d gather for various meals, and with whom. There’s always been an ageless excitement bubbling around the end of October…
This past Sunday was All Saints’ Day, a day on the liturgical calendar that carries a certain mystique—and perhaps an air of ghostliness, especially for my Evangelical friends. Ever-accommodating to the every-Sunday-is-Resurrection-Sunday set—his congregation is smack dab in the heart of the South—our Anglican church pastor (dare I say priest?) explained how All Saints’ marks…
Five years later, and I need to remember it all over again… November 14th, 2012 I’m sitting by my kitchen fire this chill November evening after a long day of almost monkish domesticity. I’ve been so industrious today that this welcome pause is almost too much: the warmth of the fire and the weariness of…
October 26, 2017 Five months ago this night I innocently threw a load of sheets and towels in the dryer, and the next thing I knew, my house was in flames. “Contents fire,” the forensics experts agreed, with clinical detachment. In other words, they had no idea what aberration in that whirring mechanical heart caused…
As many of you may remember, Laura and embarked upon this year with a noble plan to keep and chronicle “all the golden hours” in this space. Inspiration was running high, and the warmth of your fellowship here through the 2016 Advent and Christmas season fueled our ambition to keep watching for glimpses of a…
This is the year, with fallen faces, we learn we’re not enough, This is the year to hold each other up. ~Eric Peters, “The New Year” The first two weeks after the fire are a total blur to me now. If it weren’t for the incoherent—almost compulsive—scribblings in my journal, I honestly would not…
“I’ve known thin places all my life, but I didn’t have the language for them until I took a trip to Ireland a few years back… Thin places are transparent places or moments, set apart by the quality of the sunlight in them, or the shadows, or the silence, or the sounds—see how many variations…
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